


“It’s a long story.”

by busybeegracie



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/busybeegracie/pseuds/busybeegracie
Summary: Set at the end of the first season of Forever. Henry finally reveals the truth about his condition to Jo, after realising he has feelings for her.





	“It’s a long story.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not really sure whether I want to write more than one chapter for this story, or whether I’d have enough ideas to turn it into a multi chapter story! So this is just a start, based on what I would want to see happen in season 2!

“It’s a long story.”

Jo wasn’t surprised at Henry’s response. At least he hadn’t told her it was complicated. That was always his way of telling her he wasn’t going to elaborate at all. “Come in,” Henry said, quietly. Jo followed him and Abe into the shop, shutting the door behind her. Silence wasn’t a gift Henry had been given - as he’d once told her, but he didn’t utter a word as he led her up the stairs. Only Abe was talking, offering her a drink. “I think you’d better ask for a drink before he starts. He’s not lying, it is a long story.”

 _I’m sure it is,_ Jo thought to herself, as she ascended the staircase following her partner. Henry was her best friend, yet there had always been so much she didn’t know about him. He was special, he was ridiculously knowledgeable and perceptive. He was also intensely private, and never seemed to need to discuss his private life. At first, jo had taken his reluctance to open up personally, but she got used to it, realising that she was very special to Henry too, regardless of however much there was that he wasn’t telling her. He sat himself down on an armchair, and Jo sat on the sofa opposite him. Abe didn’t know whether or not he should leave Henry to talk to Jo alone, but as he saw his father’s hand shakily clutching the old photograph, he realised his dad would probably need backing up. He placed a steaming coffee beside Jo. “I don’t really know where to start,” Henry breathed.

Jo had not seen him like this before. She realised that whatever the meaning of the photograph was, he was about to let her in on something massive, which would almost certainly lead to many more questions. “How about with the photograph?” she asked, although she wasn’t making a suggestion, it was more of an order. “That’s you, in the photograph, right?” Henry only nodded. “And the lady... Abigail?” Her partner let out a sigh before he confirmed she was right. “And the child?” she asked.

Henry’s gaze met Jo’s, for the first time since she had arrived holding the photograph. Her eyes didn’t shy away from his, and he could tell that she was ready to listen to this long and complicated story. _Little does she know how long and complicated and hard to understand it is,_  Henry thought to himself. “She deserves the truth,” Abe said, “pops.”

Henry looked up at his son, almost as if to scold him, but he’d already decided he was going to tell Jo the truth. “It’s abraham,” Henry confessed.

Jo inhaled sharply, and then shook her head. “Wait... so, explain to me how Abe, with respect, you’re in your 60s. And, Henry, you’re telling me that this is you with Abe as a baby? Abe’s your son... but how?”

“Jo,” Henry took a deep breath. It became clear to her that he was nervous. She hadn’t seen him nervous before. Not like this, anyway. “I don’t expect you to believe me.” A few minutes earlier, her response would’ve been “try me”. But she didn’t say anything. She didn’t take her eyes off his, though. “I was born in 1779,” he said.

“So what you’re saying is you’re over 200 years old?” Jo looked to Abe, half expecting him to be just as confused. _What the hell is he telling me this nonsense for?_ she thought to herself. She felt her heart speed up. So many things were going through her mind, the number was so great that all her thoughts and questions just seemed to merge into one strong feeling of confusion. The photo was of Henry, she hadn’t had to ask him to know that. Her first thoughts if she didn’t know him would’ve been that they had dressed in 40s clothing and had a black and white picture taken, but that’s not the Henry she knew. There was absolutely no logical reason for doing that, and if there was, he would have told her already. Everything Henry did had a logical explanation. Although, now, she felt she was discovering his whole life is the complete opposite of what she thought - it’s completely unlogical.

“Yes,” Henry said. It was clear he was struggling to maintain eye contact with her. Jo just waited, she wasn’t sure whether she didn’t know what to say or whether she genuinely believed the story that was beginning to unravel. But she waited. “I was aboard a ship, the Empress of Africa, the same one...”

“That was found by one of our murder victims,” Jo finished his sentence.

“Yes,” Henry replied. “That’s why I was so desperate to find out...” he shook his head. He’d just started to tell her the story of his immortality, he knew now was not the time to go off track. “I was shot, while I was on the ship, in 1814. I refused to let the captain throw one of the slaves overboard. I was on the ship in the first place because I was trying to save them.”

“That’s where your scar on your chest is from?” Jo asked, although it was clear she wasn’t so much talking to Henry as she was trying to work this all out in her head. It was too crazy to work out without vocalising her thoughts. He nodded. “And so, then what?”

“Then, I was suddenly naked, alive, in water,” Henry told her. “Since then I haven’t aged, and every time I come to an end, I wake up, without a scrath on my body and without any clothes and possessions that were on me, and I’m always in water, somewhere.”

“That’s why he’s been arrested multiple times for skinny dipping,” Abe added, almost with a laugh, although he wasn’t really sure whether it was the time to laugh.

“So what you’re saying is you’re immortal?” Jo asked Henry.

“Yes, I know it sounds crazy but...”

Jo cut him off once again, although she was merely stating the same thing as he was. “But how, Henry? It doesn’t make any sense!”

“I know, Jo, I know. Truth be told, I don’t really understand it either. I know you might think I’m making this up, but please, Jo, try to believe me. At least try.” Henry had begun to sound desperate now. He was pleading with her, and she saw the tears in his eyes that threatened to spill out.

Jo stood up, not to leave, but because this was too much for her body to comprehend sitting down. She started pacing, spinning in circles. She wasn’t entirely sure how, though, as she felt as if she was frozen. Her body was moving without her permission. “This is insane,” she said, although it was barely inaudible.

“I know, I know,” he said, once again. He stood up to face her, while Abe remained sat down.

 _What else were you expecting when you asked for an explanation of the photo?_ Joasked herself. She would have ruled it off as some odd photoshoot with his wife, pretending they were alive post world war two. But she didn’t, because this was Henry, and she’d always known there was something ridiculous and unique about him. “And so, you haven’t aged since you died?”

“No,” Henry replied.

Once again, his son was there to back him up. “I’ve known him my whole life, and he has not aged at all. The only physical difference in him is that he’s grown a bit of stubble since the photo was taken!” Abe wanted to make a joke about how he’d put on a bit of weight or something, but he thought better of it. Now was not the time for jokes.

“At the time of my first death, I was married. A lady named Nora.” Henry wasn’t sure if he was talking to tell Jo this tale or if he just couldn’t bear the silence between them and needed to fill it. He presumed it was probably both. “When I went to back to her, she said it was a miracle, as she was told - correctly - about my death. I didn’t want to tell her what had happened, I couldn’t even believe it myself, then, but I died. I really did die on that ship and I came back to life, and eventually I gave in to her questioning and told her. I told her because,” Henry took a deep breath. Just recounting this story had brought the pain back to him, and Jo could see this. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of what Henry was saying, but one thing for sure was that he believed what he was saying to be true. “Because I loved her, and I thought I could trust her.”

“What happened?” Jo asked. Her tone had changed somewhat. There was less of the disbelief that it had a few minutes ago, and now a hint of concern.

“I was sent to an asylum. I nearly slit my wrists when she told me she didn’t believe me, because I wanted to prove it to her, and I knew I would come back to life. Part of me doesn’t blame her, because it’s so crazy. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if someone else had told me. But, I guess I thought that because i was in love with her, I thought she would. She said she did, but only to stop me from ending my life. That’s what she thought would happen. I can’t forget what I went through, what they did to me...”

“What did they do, Henry?”

“They performed a treatment called hydroptherapy on me,” he told her.

“Isn’t that like swimming? Being in water?” she asked. As the words came out of her mouth she almost sniggered at the irony, considering what he’d just told her about always coming back to life in water. However, by his choice of the word ‘performed’, she was guessing that in the 1800s hydrotherapy wasn’t quite the same as it is today.

“I was tied to a wooden board and tipped upside down. They poured water over my head,” Henry was shuddering at the memory. Abe just sat and watched the conversation that was playing out between his father and Jo. If he needed to intervene, he would, but right now, this was about Henry telling Jo about his affliction.

“So what happened next?” Jo asked. It was becoming increasingly difficult for Henry to tell whether he believed her. _I have faith in her, dad,_  Abe wanted to say.

“I was eventually transferred to a prison, where i was cellmates with a priest,” Henry explained. Him and Jo were still stood, opposite each other, both of them glued to their positions, feeling unable to move. “I told him, about how i had come back to life, and he believed me. He helped me hang myself, so I could escape.”

“Wait,” Jo gasped, “so you’ve died more than once?” She was shaking her head. “And... so you woke up naked in water, again?” Henry nodded slowly. “So, that’s why you’ve been arrested on a number of times...” Remembering this was exactly what Abe had told her, Jo went quiet. She still wasn’t sure what to make of this. But she knew that henry was so unique that the explanation as to why would inevitably be something completely crazy. Weirdly enough, it was the only thing that seemed to complete this puzzle that was Henry Morgan.

“Remember the first case we worked on together? When you got shot at grand central?” Henry asked.

“I thought you fell off the roof with the murderer, but you convinced me otherwise. but... I had always been strangely suspicious. I had always been sure that I really did see you fall.” Jo stopped, and took a deep breath. “Henry, this is a lot to take in,” she said, unsure of anything else to say. This was a valid explanation to his lack of self preservation insinct which had been noted by not only her but also Mike and Lieutenant Reece, to name a few.

Abe suddenly got up. Both Jo and Henry had almost forgotten he was there. “I’ll be back,” he told them, as he made his way downstairs.

Jo edged closer to Henry. “This is...” Jo started, but then found herself lost for words.

“Insane. I know,” Henry said. “But Jo, please, I’m not insane. I’m not sick... I’m not... I’m a man of my word. You know that. I’m not making any of this up, Jo.” She still didn’t know what to say. If she heard these words from anyone else, she would immediately think they had lost the plot. But this was Henry. he couldn’t possibly be as sharp as he is, as clever as he is, if he was mentally ill or delusional? Could he? He was always right, about everything. Jo couldn’t think of a time when he had ever been wrong about something. Surely he couldn’t be so intelligent yet not know what he was talking about when it came to his own personal life? She was going over everything in her head, it almost made her feel dizzy, so much so she needed to sit down.

Henry turned away from her, he had no clue as to what she was thinking, which was a first for him. He couldn’t do anything but stare down at his shoes. He had recently realised that he was in love with this woman, or so he thought. He definitely had feelings for her - strong feelings, reaching above and beyond that of a platonic level. And now he thought he’d ruined it. _How could I have ever expected her to believe me?_ he thought to himself.

Jo’s mind was still racing, replaying everything he had told her. Replaying all the times he had acted erratically or suspiciously. Was she trying to pick holes in this story, trying to challenge it? She didn’t know. But even if she was, she couldn’t. It was until Abe spoke that she realised he was back, and he was holding a small box. “I thought you might want to show her something from this?” he suggested to Henry, holding the box out in front of him.

Jo noticed that Henry’s hand was shaking as he took the box from Abe. He sauntered over to the sofa Jo was sat on, instead of sitting opposite to her, and opened the box without saying a word to her. Inside it were photos and pieces of paper. Curiosity got the better of Jo as she leaned over to see a photo of him and Abigail.

Henry felt a brief stab of pain as he saw his wife, but deftly lifted the photograph that was taken of them at a party in the 40s and placed it on the arm of the sofa. Underneath the photo was a newspaper clipping. A picture of henry was next to the article, which was dated 1865. As implausible as everythng he told her was, she knew it was authentic when his still shaking hand held out the paper. Jo clutched it, and scanned her eyes over the article. His name was mentioned, and the picture was, without a doubt, Henry. The newspaper wasn’t fake, Jo knew that.

Abe took his cue to leave when he heard the bell ring downstairs, realising a customer had arrived. Jo and Henry’s eyes met, for the first time in what seemed like ages. He had been alive for over 235 years, yet this was the slowest time had felt in his whole life. “Henry,” Jo breathed. “You’re immortal. You’ve been alive for all this time.” She had to echo the story to help herself believe it. “You poor man,” she suddenly said, and Henry gulped as the overwhelming feeling of de ja vu engulfed him.

He could almost see Abigail in front of him, standing in her soft pink silk dressing gown as she had been when she said those very words, when she realised what Jo now realised. But Abigail vanished from his vision quickly. It was Jo he was looking at; and he could not be more aware of that. Her short dark hair, her prominent cheekbones, her beautiful dark brown eyes. He wanted to tell her about Adam, that he had been acting strangely about the pugio because he was scared Adam would harm her, but he knew he couldn’t suddenly unload 235 years worth of stories and pain onto her. Not after she only just discovered his secret. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but he couldn’t find the words. He wanted to thank her over and over for believing him, he wanted to tell her about the feelings he harboured for her, but he hadn’t felt like this since Abigail. “I know what i’m saying sounds crazy,” Henry said. He was just repeating what he’d said before, but wording it differently.

He opened his mouth to talk again, the tears reappearing in his eyes, but Jo placed her hand over his. “Shhh,” she said, softly. “Don’t say another word, Henry. Or at least... not if you’re going to apologise.” Henry couldn’t tell if time was slowing down even more or speeding up again. He could feel Jo’s hand shaking as it rested gently over his; he was aware his hand was also unsteady, but somehow Jo’s touch made him feel steady once again. Slowly, he felt the space between them heads closing. The sound of Abe chatting away to a customer, a rather posh sounding female, faded away as he felt Jo’s breath on his lips.

And then, the softness of her lips on his. As he cupped her smooth cheek with his hands, and felt her thick hair uderneath his fingers, any thoughts of Abigail left his mind. He had hardly spared a moment to think about her in the last few minutes, but remembered her saying to him, “I’m here now.” Just like Abigail was there back then, Jo is here, with Henry, now, and it wasn’t until now - almost a year after they first met - that Henry had truly realised how grateful he was for that.

Jo gently carressed the side of his neck and his jawline with her fingers; she didn’t remember placing her hand there, but was savouring the senstion of his skin beneath it. As it was the first time Abigail had really left Henry’s mind, it was the first time Jo found herself not thinking about Sean, and she didn’t even realise. It was less than two years since his death. She hadn’t imagined she’d be in love again this quickly. She hadn’t been sure she’d ever fall in love ever again, but as their tender kiss deepened, two lost souls seemed to connect, and everything suddenly seemed so clear and simple.

As they managed to pull themselves ever so slightly away from one another, Henry told her, “working with you, Jo, is one of the best things, if not the best thing, that has ever happened to me. I don’t ever want to lose that. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

Jo smiled; it was a smile that reached every feature of her face. She let her hands slide from Henry’s neck to his chest, and they stopped there. “You won’t, Henry,” she assured him. And then took a deep breath before saying, “well, for as long as I’m alive.”

Henry shook his head, he wanted to just have this moment, but he didn’t reprimand her. He found himself unable to do anything but lean towards her again and envelope her mouth in another tender kiss.

Their lips parted again just in time, as they both suddenly became aware of their surroundings once again, hearing Abe’s footsteps on the stairs. At the sight of him, henry’s face lit up in the same way it always did when Abe was around. Jo now realised it was fatherly pride, and it seemed so obvious now that it almost made her wonder how she had never noticed before. But she wasn’t even going to think about that.

“I was wondering if i’d left you two too long,” Abe said, relieved to see that there were no tears or signs of an argument. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m getting rather hungry. Jo, you staying for lunch?”

“I insist you do,” Henry turned to her before she could open her mouth.

“That’s a yes then,” Jo smiled at Henry, and then at Abe. “What’s on the menu?” she asked.

“Well, we could microwave-“ Abe began, knowing full well how his father would respond.

“No, Abraham.” Henry said firmly.

“It makes sense now, why you’re so against microwaves,” Jo said, smiling. Abe nodded, before rolling his eyes.

“I’ll cook,” Henry announced.

“Let me guess, you’re an amazing cook,” Jo conceded.

“Well, I’ve had a lot of time to practice, detective,” Henry replied with a wink.

“I look forward to hearing all about it.”


End file.
